


But I Don't Want to Dance (If I'm Not Dancing with You)

by miss_nettles_wife



Category: The Doctor Blake Mysteries
Genre: Emotional Intimacy, Hidden Relationship, M/M, Period Typical Homophobia, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25032622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_nettles_wife/pseuds/miss_nettles_wife
Summary: Charlie comes home from a church singles dance feeling rather dejected.
Relationships: Charlie Davis/Matthew Lawson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	But I Don't Want to Dance (If I'm Not Dancing with You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lenn0nLem0n](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenn0nLem0n/gifts).



> a gift for a friend who wrote a story for me when i was feeling shitty. Here's a fic with loads of inside references.

When he heard the front door open, Matthew glanced up from the television to look down into the entryway of the house. His house. As much as he’d liked living with Lucien and Jean since Lucien got back he found he was liable to walk in on them being...Intimate or at least involved with one another at times where he just wanted to go get a drink. Not to mention, he missed his own house, with his furniture, pictures, and artwork. And his own bed, he never knew how much he missed his bed until he was sleeping somewhere else. 

Charlie was sliding out of a slightly too big beige jacket, hanging it on one of the pegs of the coat rack. With the jacket up, he turned around and caught his eye. Promptly, he attempted to hide the scowl he was wearing with a more neutral expression. It didn’t work, and he must have known because he rolled his eyes and trudged into the living room without even taking his shoes off. 

It had made sense for Charlie to move in with him after he got back from Melbourne where he’d transferred too after Bonehead. He’d been annoyed at first that Charlie would just take the skills he’d learned and should be practicing in Ballarat to Melbourne where there were already far too many qualified cops but when Charlie explained it was a family thing he couldn’t stay upset with him. Charlie was a family man first and foremost and it would be cruel to try and change that about him. But he was back now and when he showed up unannounced, three suitcases and a transfer request it felt a bit like the sun coming out after a long, dark night. 

Honestly, to anyone else it would have looked like a normal, platonic convenient way to live. To a concerned observer, it may seem as though Charlie were taking responsibility for him after the accident and sacrificing his own personal life to live with a man nearly twice his age. While it was true, that Charlie did a lot of housework, cooking, and gardening and yes it was most certainly extremely convenient to have him here rather than in Melbourne...Platonic was not the term that either of them would use to describe their relationship. 

To one another, at least. 

“How was the dance?” He asked as Charlie dropped heavily onto the couch. One long, dark curl had escaped from his carefully gelled style and settled on his forehead. Must have done a lot of dancing, Matthew thought, somewhat ruefully. He was never a dancer, but when you can’t do something it’s a lot different to when you simply choose not to do it. Charlie just grimaced in reply and muttered something about having his toes stepped on before trying and failing to fix his hair. Singles dances at the Church seemed to him much like a necessary evil. People were far less likely to question Charlie about the nature of his relationship with his boss if they thought he was trying to find a girl but just in lucky in love. 

Jean’s new church’s singles dances were a great cover, and he’d always thought Charlie probably liked to spend time with people his own age every so often since it seemed he was the only one in their friend group that was his age. He sighed as Charlie picked at his cuticles for a moment before reaching under his shirt to undo the clasp on the necklace he was wearing. Onto his hand, he slid the St Michael’s pendant, and ring. Matthew never pretended to understand Charlie’s relationship with religion. It never felt like his place. 

The closest his family had come to religion was the Salvation Army when they brought around furniture for them after his father was laid off for the ntheenth time. After his mother died and he and Vera got the house he was pretty sure that furniture went back to the Salvation Army it came from. The lounge suite that they had now had been one of the few frivolous purchases he’d made in his life, one day in the fifties (it seemed so long ago now, but it’s only 1964) he’s seen the leather couch set for sale at a store, and brought it within the hour. It was a good set, too, lasted him a long time. Very comfortable to sit on, and even sleep on as he’d learned one summer when the heat soared up into the 40s. 

Charlie’s St Michael’s pendant was worn almost smooth on the front, from someone grabbing at it frequently. He knew enough about Charlie to know it wasn’t him and likely from whoever Shierly had gotten the pendant from. He’d never examined it intimately, but he was quite sure ‘Norm’ was scratched into the underside. Charlie was looking at his ring now, twisting the scratched, stainless steel around in his fingers. When they decided they should get rings, Matthew insisted that he should be the one to buy one for Charlie rather than him buying his own. He’d envisioned something gold, maybe with an emerald on it, he’d rather been eyeing one-off at a local jeweler. He had envisioned himself sliding it onto Charlie’s hand and watching his eyes light up at the site of it...But Charlie was as much of a stubborn mule to Matthew as he was too anyone else. 

While Matthew was examining jewels (under the guise of buying one for himself), Charlie had been thinking about silvers. The ring he’d picked out barely cost more than the junk jewelry he’d buy for Vera at Christmas time. It was two thin strips of metal braided together, not showy or even particularly noteworthy if not for the fact Charlie was the one wearing it. He wore it mostly on his pointer finger, or maybe the thumb in summer when his fingers swelled up slightly. Of course, Matthew was not one to deny Charlie anything he asked for. Work-related requests not-withstanding, naturally, so he brought the ring and Charlie had been pleased with that. With the ring now on, Charlie assumed a somewhat usual position for him, and tilted sideways, falling against Matthew’s shoulder. 

Matthew glanced at him, before turning back to his show. Charlie would tell him when he was ready, he knew that much. So there they sat for another few minutes. Matthew pretended to be reading but was much more invested in the way Charlie was drawing little circles on the space between their knees on their couch. Their couch. That’s what it was. Anything Matthew had, within reason, was also Charlie’s. But Charlie hadn’t brought an awful lot with him when he moved in, aside from his clothes and suitcases. But if you knew where to look, you could see traces of him. 

A shelf that previously contained a bible, several golfing magazines, and a copy of War and Peace (all of which was for show) now held a selection of classic novels and pictures in frames. One of Rose, when she was a little girl, sitting in his lap opening up a wrapped Christmas gift. One from Lucien and Jean’s wedding, one of Charlie’s family and one from his brother’s graduation from high school. The top of the fireplace that previously only held his mothers' ashes now held a potted plant, several more pictures, and a ceramic dog. His mother had been relocated to a graveyard, he didn’t miss having her up there, looking over him, it wasn’t as if he talked to her urn or anything. He just hadn’t quite known what to do with her. She was probably happier in the graveyard, in a wall under a tree than she was watching her son be improper with another man. 

Of course, Charlie had his bedroom. But it was mostly for looks and only ever entered to be aired out or dusted. The only thing in there was his clothes and suitcases. Even now, several of his shirts had migrated into Matthew’s closet too. Not that he minded; he didn’t have much, to begin with, and it was better that space was being used. 

“You’re not wearing your ring,” Charlie said, his voice is naturally soft but the room makes it seem softer under the wall of noise the television creates. 

“I took it off to do the dishes. It’s just in the kitchen.” He replied, not expecting Charlie to get up and walk out of the room. He does expect the desire for him to be back, he’s not exactly used to being attached to another person but he’s slowly coming to understand what it means to be with someone. Really be with them. Charlie returns within the minute, holding Matthew’s ring delicately between his fingers. Charlie’s ring was a simple affair, Matthew’s was more...Ostentatious. 

It was a gift, supposedly, from Charlie, Danny, and Rose. But everyone who knew them knew that really, it was from Charlie. A gold signet-style ring with a single ruby in the upper left corner, and his initial, ‘M’ in an ornate script in the opposing one. He usually wore it everywhere, and much like Charlies, it was beginning to look a little scuffed on the top but he didn’t mind. The letter that was there was less important than the letter that wasn’t. Charlie sat, facing him this time. He took hold of his hand and turned it out. Matthew watched as he slipped the ring into the spot it usually sat and then stared at it for some moments, taking it in. Rather than release his hand, he instead threaded their fingers together, holding them in his lap. 

“I got asked on a date, at the dance.” He said, finally. Matthew looked at Charlie’s rather glum face up and down. Not unexpected, lots of women had asked Charlie on dates, and as far as he knew Charlie had asked many women out. And men. He just so happened to be the one Charlie had settled on. He wasn’t so vain as to think that he was the only person who’d ever touched him and truthfully wouldn’t even want to be. He taught Charlie everything he knew about work, and in return, Charlie had taught him everything he knew about making relationships stick. 

He’d thought, while Charlie was gone, he should try to see other people, much like he assumed Charlie was doing. Alice Harvey had seemed like a good enough woman to ask out, but she wasn’t interested. No, she was far more interested in one of the nurses on the night shift than any man she’d ever gone out with. 

“And?”

  
“I told her that I’m very busy and only here to satisfy Mrs. Blake.” 

“And?” He asked again, trying to push Charlie along to the point. 

“Well, she said that I should go home and stick to playing nursemaid if I wasn’t looking for a date.” 

“She said that? To your face?” 

“Yeah,” Charlie said, looking away, red-faced. Matthew loathes to think of things as sweet but if he did then that look would be one of them. 

“Did you say something back?” 

  
“No, I was too stunned.” He admitted, “One of the girls said she’s just...Highly strung but is that really how people see me?” 

“As my nursemaid?” 

“You don’t see me like that, do you?” He asked, looking remarkably earnest. It was easy to see how that assumption could be reached. Charlie was always the one doing the washing, hanging out clothes, even taming Matthew’s garden. Before Charlie moved in the most care that it ever got was water when it rained and pruning when it got out of control. But under the other’s loving care it had flourished into something lovely. A bougainvillea had sprung up without the consent of either man when Charlie first moved in and the weekend previous he and Danny spent an entire afternoon building a trellis for the thing while Matthew and Rose observed from the deck. When he got the next roll developed, he was going to get the picture he took of Charlie under his handwork framed and put up on the mantle next to the other framed ones. 

“You know that I don’t,” Matthew said, as Charlie settled back against his side. Matthew reached across to brush the stray curl off his forehead before settling in next to him. “You’re my husband.” 

“I just wanted to hear you say it,” Charlie admitted, using his other thumb to smooth across the top of Matthew’s ring. They sat in companionable silence, watching the television for several more moments. Matthew had to admit that he didn’t like the new version of Game of Champions as much as the old. The hosts were too...Perky for his liking but the game was the same. Too bad he didn’t know anything about American plays.   
Before too long, his attention was back on Charlie, where it always seemed to end up these days. 

“You know, don’t you?” He asked softly, “Even if I don’t say it?” Charlie had been almost asleep. He nodded, knocking the stray curl back onto his forehead. 

“Love you too.” He said back, softly, “I don’t think I’ll be going to more dances, I don’t want to dance without you.” 

“And how do you think I’ll do that?” He asked, indicating to his bad leg.

“I’ll figure something out.” Charlie said, and Matthew was sure he would. 


End file.
